Today as I sat by the ocean listening to the gentle crashing of the waves I pondered about writing a new post for my blog. Having encountered one barrier after another since my last post, announcing that I was moving everything from WordPress.com over to my website on WordPress.org, I have felt suspended in mid air, not able to make a move or complete any writings.
Asking myself once again what the purpose or the essence of my blog is, two words bubbled up into my consciousness: ”Nature and Now”. Recognizing immediately that this is what motivates me as well as satisfies many of my passions: writing, photography, presence, being in nature and awakening to our true nature – clarity rang like a bell in the silence and words started pouring out just like the water the waves were bringing in.
It didn’t take long for the writing to be done, finding the pictures I wanted to share with it and then letting it marinate overnight. The next day I sat down eagerly to put the finishing touches on, thinking it would take less than an hour before it was ready to go out into the world. Well, that is not how it turned out. I spent hours editing and every time I tried to save the whole post the computer froze. I did this over and over again until I had to let go.
Instead I went to a chanting event and afterwards drove to the ocean and waited for the dark. Stars began to shimmer in the sky and finally the moment came when I walked into the ocean and swam in the bioluminescence. It was the most enchanting experience I have ever had. The night before I went with three beautiful women and it was truly magical. But being there alone in the water watching light being created by the movement of my body in the silence and darkness is beyond words. The water was warm as I swam naked under the stars. Seeing my whole body lit up and creating light with every little or big movement I have never experienced this kind of enchantment with my own body before. It felt both so personal and transpersonal at the same time. While watching the light move like arrows of light when a fish moved below me I recognized how we all are truly beings of light. It is not just a catchy new age phrase.
Nature is important to me. It nourishes me on every level. It reminds me daily that I am not just a part of it but shows me my own true nature. It gives me so many gifts and teaches me about life and death, light and darkness, rhythms and seasons and the relating of everything to everything. We are never separate from any of it.
When fear or sadness around the state of the world and loss of nature grips me I often choose to come back into the here and now, observing what is actually here on the inside and outside: my thoughts and feelings, the story I create from these thoughts, the little fawn that is walking by my window as I am writing this. (No kidding this is actually happening right now.) This is not to escape the reality of wars, Covid, environmental emergencies, heartbreaks in every corner of the world, but to help me come back to basic trust. As A.H.Almaas says so beautifully in his book Facets of Unity: “Basic trust gives us the capacity to surrender, the capacity to let go, the capacity to jump into the unknown.” It lets me return to the goodness of true nature and this is where my trust originates from.
Coming back to the Now never fails to open my heart if I let myself truly contact what is here and allow myself to receive the gift of this moment. I do not want to miss the blossom that has opened today or notice the mystery of the strange irregular sound of the hummingbird flying to my feeder every evening this week. Nor do I want to miss saying Goodbye to a loved one when the times comes or the feel of the computer keys beneath my finger tips as my hands move like dancing light.
Of course I had to run outside and take a picture of the little fawn. It blended in so well that it took me a while to spot it, plus I was carefully looking around for signs of her mother. Mother deer can be quite protective and so it should be. What a sweet gift to receive as I am writing this and such perfect timing!
This spring I was delighted to find a robin’s nest with three beautiful blue eggs right by my front deck. Being so close to the cabin made it a bit difficult to move around normally. Not wanting to disturb the nesting mother I found a different place to hang up my laundry for a while and go through the cabin to get to other side of the deck. Standing on my futon I could look down into the bush where the nest was well hidden and checked every morning to see if the robin was still sitting on her eggs.
Since the little birds that usually nest above my bedroom window did not return this year, this new development made me very happy. I am sure last year’s long and extreme heatwave had something to do with the pair choosing not to nest under the tin roof again.
Then the sweet moment arrived when three baby birds hatched. Surely you can imagine my joy. It didn’t take long for me to notice my attachment and hope that these beautiful little ones would make it to adulthood. Very quickly I also saw how challenging that actually is.
A hawk came by regularly plucking other babies from nests nearby with the distressed parents doing their best, but really having no chance at all. The father robin disappeared early on before the little ones were even hatched. I am not sure if that is normal for robins, but it seemed like the mother bird was the only one working very hard to feed her three hungry ones.
One early morning peeking through the window I noticed she was not on the nest as usual. It didn’t take long for me to begin to worry and imagine the worst, wondering how I would keep the baby birds alive and thriving. I was grateful to see her return later on. Only a few days later two of her babies disappeared, leaving only one little plump young bird with new emerging feathers sitting on the edge of the nest looking a little forlorn. Checking beneath the bush and the deck I saw no sign of the others. When I returned that evening the last robin baby was gone as well. For a few days I held onto the hope that perhaps it had hopped down to the ground and Mama bird was still feeding it somewhere. But there was no evidence of that. So basic trust invited me once again to open to the wholeness of the unfolding.
Today I received the last piece of the puzzle that hadn’t allowed me to finish this writing before. It was the “holy Yes” that arose in me in a dyad (a form of contemplation with a partner) this morning. Just like I can’t put into words the experience of swimming in an ocean of light, I cannot really explain the immensity of that Yes, but it included everything way beyond the comprehension of the mind. I feel the completeness and wholeness of that Yes inside of me and I knew it needed to be included in this writing as it permeates everything.